


Two Senses

by I_was_BOTWP



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Multi, Post-War, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 01:05:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12200886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_was_BOTWP/pseuds/I_was_BOTWP
Summary: Hermione didn't go back to Hogwarts for the reasons everyone thought.  Harry and Ron had ulterior motives in mind when they chose to become Aurors.  George threw himself back into his work to cover up more than the pain of losing his brother.  And Draco?  Well, a bunch of Gryffindors rushing headlong into a half-cocked plan need the help of at least one Slytherin.





	Two Senses

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SingMeARareOSComp](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SingMeARareOSComp) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> Ghost In The Wind, by Birdy
> 
> "Can someone tell me who I am? I haven't recognized myself in a while."
> 
> This piece is part of the Sing Me A Rare OS Competition Autumn 2017. I had a choice of song and one character which are Ghost in the Wind by Birdy and Fred Weasley. The Admins of the group then randomly chose the other character or characters. All character, spells, magical equipment and locations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling.
> 
> I'd like to thank JM and also LH for their alpha and beta work.

He was dead.  There was no confusion regarding that point.  People wept around his battered body.  No one could have survived the _brokenness_ evident in his form.  He wanted to comfort them, but quickly discovered the living could neither see him, nor discern his shouts of, “Can anyone hear me?”

He didn’t know how long he’d been staring at the group of people gathered around what had been him, before he felt a _pull_ behind him.

He turned around and saw it.   _The Light._ The pull got stronger.  He found himself standing, back to his family and friends, farther away from them than just moments before, without any memory of moving.

Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder.

His brother.

How could he leave behind the man he could already see breaking apart?

He took a deliberate step back towards the living, away from the wonder which had begun to engulf him.

The _pull_ turned into a sharp _tug_.

He stopped, realizing he’d felt it in his gut.  He hadn’t _physically_ _felt_ anything since, well, was it four hours ago now?  It was so bloody hard to tell.

He took another step away from the glow behind him.

He gasped.  Or made the approximation of a gasp.  That _hurt_.

He kept his eyes focused on his brother, knowing that if he looked back, even once, the combination of his pain and the beauty behind him—yes, he knew he was moving towards something _ugly_ —would overwhelm him, causing him to give up on his goal.

He was choosing to stay here to protect his brother, because his brother needed him more than he needed _The Light._ He would watch over his brother through the rest of this fight.

His steps became labored, his legs felt so heavy; lifting them became a chore.  The air around him grew thick.  He could feel the implicit warning.  Choose this, and there will be no going back.

It hurt so bad.  _Soul-rendering,_ he thought. He grit his teeth.  Only three, maybe four, more steps and he would be there.  He instinctively knew, if he could just touch his body, it would all be over.

He forced his foot up off the ground and pushed it forward. His knee buckled when his foot came back down, and he fell. He wasn’t sure he could make it through the pain.  He silently screamed in agony.

Only two more steps to go, even if he was now on all fours.

When the final distance stood before him, it was all he could do to fall forward, his hand reaching out to lay translucent fingers across corporeal ones.

Two things happened simultaneously.  The pain became so overbearing, he lost consciousness.  And _The Light_ winked out behind him.

Fred Weasley’s ghost regained consciousness five days later.

* * *

Of course, he hadn’t immediately realized five days had passed.  He rapidly moved through the castle, searching, yelling, hoping to find someone, anyone.

He did find others.  Other ghosts.  Once he calmed down enough to listen, The Grey Lady explained everything to him.

The light side had triumphed.  The rest of his family lived.  Harry and Hermione lived.  Others beside him had perished, but he couldn’t care about them now.  George was alive.

The castle was under a stasis spell of sorts.  McGonagall had placed it in order to keep people out and hopefully keep deterioration at bay until a repair team could be brought in.  All of the bodies had been taken so funerals could commence. For now, it was just the ghosts wandering around.

“I need to go to George, let him know I'm still here for him.” Now that he knew what had happened, Fred felt desperate to leave.

The sad faces around him didn’t register as Fred sped away towards the school’s boundaries.

It was once again The Grey Lady who appeared by his side as he sat staring at the Black Lake, mumbling, “I’ve nowhere to run. Where do I belong?”

“You belong here now,” she needlessly answered his question. As if the hours of trying to leave by any means possible hadn’t already shown him he was trapped. The furthest he’d made it was through the tunnel to the interior of The Shrieking Shack.

“I don’t want anyone to know I’m here.”

“The Headmistress will know, you can’t keep that sort of secret from the head of the school - her magic is now tied to the castle,” she spoke gently.

“Fine.  But no one else.”

She nodded her assent.

Two days later, he was waiting in the Headmistress’ office when McGonagall returned to reopen the castle.  Their conversation was brief, but Fred found no argument from her when he laid out his reasoning.

She dabbed a tissue to the corner of her eyes, squared her shoulders, and took a deep breath. “As you wish, Mr. Weasley.”

* * *

Harry had brought The Marauder's Map along with him during the school’s reconstruction. It bloody figured. And the git couldn’t keep his discovery of Fred upon it to himself.  Oh no, the wanker had decided to bring along none other than Ron and Hermione to confront Fred.

Six days into the reconstruction, the trio used the map to ambush him.

It also bloody figured Hermione knew spells to immobilize and silence a ghost.

Hermione alternated between pacing and standing with her hands on her hips, her hair crackling with magic, as she laid into him.

“You prat…”

“The only thing keeping George out of a continuous alcoholic stupor is Angelina…”

Angelina, huh? There was a bit of a surprise.

“Your mother…”

“You are so bloody stupid! What were you thinking?”

Harry stood back, just observing, looking every bit the angry jailer, his back against the door to the classroom they were hidden in, his arms crossed on his chest, wand in hand, one leg bent up with his foot resting bend him.  He exuded a power Fred had never noticed in the man before. He appeared nonchalant, yet Fred could sense that in a heartbeat Harry would use that foot behind him to push off the door and be atop him. It occurred to Fred that if Hermione knew spells which could be used against him, Harry may know others.

“It’s been two months Fred.  Two months!  Why didn’t you let anyone know you were here?” Ron’s quiet voice broke in when Hermione stopped for a breath. Ron didn’t look Fred in the eyes when he asked, but instead stared down at his clenched hands, wand held between them.

Fred opened his mouth to answer - nothing came out.

Hermione released her spells with a huff.

“Nobody fucking tells you it takes _days_ to become a ghost, do they?  What class is that taught in?” His harsh voice filled the room.

“I made the decision to stay behind to protect George.  By the time I woke up in this state,” he gestured at his not-quite-opaque form, “it had been nearly a week since our lot won.  Not much protecting needed by that time, eh?  Now I’m protecting George the only way I still can, by staying away.”  He spat it all out, his voice catching on the final words as his shoulders began to shake.

Ron looked up at Fred, meeting his eyes for the first time.  Fred really wished he hadn’t.  He couldn’t stand to see his little brother cry.

“George deserves to know, Fred.  I’m not keeping this from him.”

“For fuck’s sake.  This will ruin him.  I already thought that, but after what Hermione just said?  No!” Fred beseeched Ron.

Ron moved to stand before him.  Fred just now noticed his little brother wasn’t really little anymore.  Ron towered over him by a few inches and had gained some toned muscles.  He also had the same powerful aura about him as the other two in the room.  Fred realized his brother was now a man - a man who no longer held the same insecurities as his kid brother.

“I don’t know that you have a choice, mate.” Ron’s slow smile wasn’t exactly pleasant.  Fred wasn’t sure he knew this man at all. “You see, we’ve,” Ron waived his hand to indicate Harry and Hermione, “known about you since last week.  We waited to confront you until we could finish some reading at Grimmauld Place.”

Fred couldn’t contain the snort.  Ron only read Quidditch books.

Harry pushed himself off the door to come towards the others.

“We’ve learned some things over the past few months.  One of which is that reading is important.” The Man Who Lived turned to Hermione with a smirk.

“Who are you people?” Fred asked only half-jokingly, eyes darting between the three.

All three let out unexpected laughs.

“We ask ourselves that more than you’d think,” Hermione admitted. “But really, while reading, we think we found a spell to…”

For the first time since they’d trapped him, she looked uncertain. The room fell silent. Fred noticed dust motes floating in the air where the sun shone through a grimy window.

Ron sighed. “We think we found a spell that could bring you back.  It’s a bit darker than we’d expected. Not that there’s a wide array of books on Light Magic in the Black Library, mind you. But, well, we need to talk to George and you together, and see if you really want to go through with what this entails.”

Fred turned his back on the trio, gathering his thoughts, remembering the physical agony he’d felt in becoming a ghost, then the added trauma of realizing it had all been in vain when he’d awoken too late.  Could there be some meaning to it after all?  He turned back.

“We’ll need to figure out what to do about McGonagall - she’s the only one besides you who knows about me.”

“Let me talk to her,” Harry said. “She has more of a soft spot for mayhem than you realize.”

* * *

When George came the next day with the trio, he stared at Fred for a long time. “I haven’t looked in a mirror in a while.  Since you left, I stay up every night, thinking if you were just here…  And now you are.”

Harry had shut the door and assumed the same position as the previous day, but only after casting some heavy charms.

“Now, tell me the plan,” George said with a trace of a smile.

When Hermione, Harry, and Ron detailed the ritual, Fred was sure he would have had a heart attack if he weren’t already dead.

They would be sacrificing others in order to bring him back.

Ron’s eyes turned cold when he explained there were still rogue Death Eaters out there and no one would miss them the way people missed Fred.  Fred noticed Hermione kept rubbing her left arm during their discussion, but her stance was firm otherwise.  Harry had the same coiled appearance as before.  Fred turned to George, expecting him to say no.  Instead his twin stood with a hopeful light in his eyes.

“What’s everyone’s part in this?” George asked.

Hermione spoke up, laying out what Fred surmised to be a well-thought out plan, even if it had been less than a week since they’d started work on it.

“Harry and Ron are going to join the Auror ranks next month. They’ll be on the inside, working to gather intelligence and get to any Death Eaters before the Ministry can send a team to apprehend them.” She began to pace.

“I’ll be coming back to school here for a repeat of my missed seventh year.  No one will suspect I have any motive besides academia. I’ll be working with Fred to get ready for the ritual. George, you’ll have to be Ron and Harry’s back-up and alibi.”

“Exactly how many _sacrifices_ do you need for this?” Fred asked.

“Four,” Ron and Harry answered simultaneously.

“It’s not a prank, Fred,” George said, reading his mind.

Fred felt his spirits bolster for the first time since the battle.  They were really going to do this, weren’t they?  No one in the room seemed worried about killing a few Death Eaters.

“Are you sure?” Fred asked, not referring to the idea of it being a prank, but rather the idea of the acts they meant to commit.

“I’m in,” George said without hesitation.

“Me too,” Ron quickly said.

“And me,” Harry added.

Hermione smiled. “I have a few ideas on who I’d like to start with,” she stated.

“We aren’t telling anyone else, though,” Fred spoke firmly. “I don’t want to get mum’s or Ginny’s hopes up.  And you need to keep Angelina out of this too.” He gave George a meaningful look.

George nodded. “If we get caught, which we won’t,” he said with a smirk, “she will be able to truthfully deny any knowledge of our actions.”

* * *

Three weeks into the school year, and Hermione had already managed to accomplish quite a bit.  With Crookshank’s ability to open the Whomping Willow passage to the Shrieking Shack, they’d decided to use it as their prison.

Hermione spent considerable time there with Fred.  Sometimes George met up with them.

“Are we sure about this Georgie?” Fred asked more than once.

Each time his twin allayed his fears.

“Do you remember when we were young?  When I was terrified, you were by my side.  Now, I’m staying by yours,” George told him the last time he’d asked.

Beginning the first night after classes started up, Fred had watched in amazement as Hermione readied the building to be a fortified, sound-proof place to hold the Death Eaters they caught.  She prepared four separate rooms with chairs in the center of each with magic dampening cuffs attached to each arm and each front leg.

She set up a potion brewing room to make the potions needed for their ritual, along with vitamin enhanced potions to force-feed to their captives in order to keep them alive as long as needed.  She’d also made various healing concoctions.

“Whatever happens to Ron and Harry when they manage to capture someone, no matter what types of wounds they sustain, we’ll have to treat them here,” she explained.  “And, we may need them for the Death Eaters, too.” She paused with a grimace. “We can’t let them die until the right time, so we will have to patch them up if needed.”

Week after week, Fred marveled at her preparations. He enjoyed watching her practice her craft.

While she performed charms, Fred found himself enticed by her graceful movements.

When her brows knit in concentration as she carefully engraved the needed runes into the iron handcuffs, he found his eyes drawn to her bottom lip and how she worried it between her teeth.

Her delicate hand stirring a glass rod over a shimmering potion had him imagining that hand holding his...

 _Shite_ , he realized, _I fancy Hermione Granger._

Here she was getting ready to do something she’d never be able to take back, _for him_.  He considered that maybe he didn’t actually fancy her.  Maybe he was confusing gratitude for something more.

He spent the next two weeks acting awkwardly around her, trying to figure out what he felt.  With only sight and sound left to him, he found himself going crazy with fantasies about feeling the texture of her hair between his fingers, smelling the scent of her skin, or tasting her lips.

When he finally couldn’t deny his feelings, he wasn’t sure what to do about it.  Nothing he supposed.  There was no guarantee he would get his corporeal form back.  And he wasn’t sure what exactly was between the curly-haired witch and his brother.  They seemed like they could read each other’s minds the handful of times he’d seen them together since that first day, but then again, Harry also seemed to be on the same wavelength. It was eerily similar to him and George, really.

* * *

Students had been back at school over a month on the night Hermione and Fred emerged from the Whomping Willow passage with Crookshanks ahead of them.  Fred felt guilty at times. He could pass through anywhere safely, but the half-kneazle was instrumental to making sure Hermione didn’t end up injured.

The orange furball let out a small growl just as Hermione left the range of the tree’s branches.  She immediately drew her wand.  Fred looked around, then down to the cat to see where it was looking.  Following Crookshank’s eyeline carefully, he noticed a shimmer in the air.

“We’re being watched,” he told Hermione, pointing to the spot.

They’d been so careful, or so they thought.  Always using the map to watch and make sure no one followed them.  Always going out long after curfew to avoid patrols.

Hermione raised her wand in the direction Fred indicated.  “One chance to drop your wand and show yourself,” she boldly told the unknown witch or wizard.

A wand fell onto the ground between them as the glamour was lifted, revealing Draco Malfoy.

“Fucking Malfoy,” Fred groaned.

Hermione cocked her head to the side, her wand still pointed straight at him, her eyes assessing him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“I could ask you the same thing,” the blond drawled.

Fred raised an eyebrow at the other man’s audacity.  The Slytherin was unarmed, yet he wasn’t cowering. In fact, he acted as if he was in control of the situation rather than vice versa.

Hermione barked a laugh. “You could, but I don’t think we’ll be answering that.”

“No need really,” Malfoy said with a smirk. “Skulking around with a ghost no one else even knows is here? There aren’t many reasons why that kind of secret gets kept.”

Fred had noticed Malfoy a couple of times over the past month.  The younger man had been the only Slytherin from Hermione’s year to return to finish school.  He was keeping to himself, mostly staying in his dorm.  The only other place he’d seen the git outside of classes and meals was the Astronomy Tower.   _Oh bloody hell._

“He’s been spying on us from the Astronomy Tower, probably for weeks,” Fred said.

“I’ve also noticed Granger liberating certain potion ingredients,” Malfoy offered up.

Fred looked to his co-conspirator, noting her arm hadn’t yet wavered from its upright position - he marveled at the muscle control and concentration it would take to have her hand stay so still.

“It seems we have two choices here,” Hermione stated coldly.

Fred expected Malfoy to look worried.

“I’m sure you think so, Granger,” the ferret said, still smirking. “Before you get to the actual threats, how about I offer up my idea for an additional choice.”

“We’re listening,” she said.

“Let me help you.”

“Help us? What exactly do you think we’re doing?” Fred asked carefully.  No need to give away their hand.

“I’d wager, based upon the contents of the shack,” Malfoy paused, a shite-eating grin upon his face at the incredulous looks upon theirs, “that you’re working on bringing Weasley here back from the dead."

“How the hell did you get past my wards?” Hermione stuttered.

“Interesting lack of denial, Granger.”

Hermione shifted her weight, still keeping her arm up.

“Why should we trust you?” Fred asked.

“Because I owe a few of my father’s associates a special “thank you” and I’m pretty sure those are the type of people you plan to use in the ritual.”

Fred’s eyes darted back and forth between the two.

“Let me ask you a question,” Malfoy continued. “How do you plan to explain to the world his reappearance?” He indicated Fred with a tilt of his head. “You can't very well fess up to the real answer, now can you?”

Hermione took her eyes off Malfoy to look to Fred.

“Bloody Gryffindors,” he sighed. “ Rushing in without a plan for the aftermath. You need a Slytherin. You need me.”

Hermione’s arm fell to her side.

“Does this mean I can pick my wand back up?” Malfoy asked dryly.

Fred noticed a twitch in the blond’s right eye when they revealed Ron and Harry were in on the plot.  Fred filed away knowledge of the tell.

“You can pass off his reappearance as unknown magic if you time it correctly, have it coincide with the anniversary of the battle.” Malfoy told them confidently.

Fred couldn't believe something so simple hadn't occurred to them.

Hermione agreed with the blond when he proposed they keep his involvement a secret for now.

Over the next two months, not much happened.  Draco, as he insisted they call him, while he began to call them Fred and Hermione, proved to be just as different from his pre-war self as Hermione. The one-time blood purist began a tentative friendship with himself and Hermione.  Fred wasn’t sure what to make of it.

It didn’t help when Fred noticed the way Hermione’s eyes lit up when Draco’s intellectual sparring met hers as they plotted on his behalf.

He also didn’t miss Draco’s appreciation for the moments when Hermione’s darker nature was evident.  It aroused the blond.

Frankly, if a ghost could have felt true arousal, Fred would be in the same boat. Long gone was the swotty prefect who’d yelled at him back in seventh year.

Fred did the only thing he could think to do.  He started to flirt with Hermione.  Subtly, at first.  Over time it grew to be not quite so subtle.  He forgot his earlier promise to himself to not let her know of his growing feelings.

His basic nature forced him to one-up Draco whenever possible. Even in death, Fred didn’t do well with losing.

What he forgot was that Draco Malfoy didn’t do well with losing either.

The week before Christmas holidays, Draco voiced what all three had been thinking for weeks.

“When are Potter and the Weasel,” he paused to give Fred the slightest look of apology for the slur, “going to bring us one captive? Let alone the four we need?”

“George said he’s been ready to cover for them more than once.” Hermione defended her friends. “But, they never end up alone with a prospective captive.”

“Yes, I can read, Granger,” Draco drawled.  “I’ve seen the papers.  The Ministry was quite proud to announce the capture of Yaxley and Rowle.  That’s two Death Eaters we missed out on.  If we aren’t careful, we’re going to have to use Snatchers and petty thieves, who may not deserve what we have planned.”

“What do you suggest?” Fred inquired.

“I could possibly get through the wards on some old hidey holes they may still be using from before,” Draco grudgingly offered.

“I thought you didn’t want anyone to know about you?” Fred’s eyes widened.

“I don’t.” Draco sighed.  He looked to Fred, something Fred hadn’t seen before flitting across his face. “I’m worried we’re running out of time. We have everything prepped for this to happen here.  You can’t leave the grounds.  If we don’t figure this out by May, it becomes infinitely more difficult, or we lose our chance altogether.”

Fred was startled by the vulnerable look on Draco’s face. Draco was staring at him like he was someone who mattered. He realized that at some point Draco’s need for vengeance had shifted to include more. Fred wondered what it all entailed, but knew better than to ask outright.

* * *

Hermione sent an owl to George telling him they needed to all meet in person at the shack during the holidays; she had something to tell them.

On Boxing Day, Fred heard Hermione calling his name.  It was a little disconcerting to realize she could, in a sense, summon him.  He didn’t have to go to her, of course, but even if she said his name in the quietest of whispers anywhere within the school boundaries, he heard it.

Fred quickly moved to the shack, finding all of his allies there, including Draco.  The blond was standing off to the side, with looks of mistrust cast his way, by Ron especially.

“Well, no one’s trying to kill anyone, so that’s a good start,” Fred said hopefully, noting no one had their wands drawn.

“Yet,” Ron said, giving Draco a scathing look.

“Right. We have actual bad people we want to kill here, quite literally, so let’s get on with it,” Hermione reminded them.

Fred took the lead in convincing Harry and his brothers that including Draco in their plans made sense.

“I did a bit of reconnaissance yesterday,” Draco announced when it seemed the other men accepted his presence.

Fred met George’s eyes, mirroring his smile normally reserved for mischief, which over the past months meant more of a grey area than ever before.

“I found Rodolphus and Rabastan, and couldn’t see anyone else watching their lair.” Draco triumphantly looked to Fred.

“We can go back again tonight,” Hermione said.

“George, invite Luna and Neville to your flat while we’re out.  The two of them will swear Harry and I were there too, if they need to.” Ron said.

“They don’t know what we’re doing,” Harry quickly added.

“Luna suspects something though,” Ron admitted, with a curious blush. Fred smirked.

“You’re sure we can trust Longbottom?” Draco looked skeptical.

“I’ve offered Neville a gift for his girlfriend Hannah,” Harry replied cryptically.

The next day, two prepped rooms contained occupants.

Fred had followed Draco when he snuck back to the shack after they’d all left.  Fred had waited outside the room as Draco ‘talked’ to his uncle for hours.  The things he’d heard Draco taking out on the man would have curled his hair if he weren’t a ghost, or possibly straightened Hermione’s, if she’d been there.

“I wanted to kill him. I came so close,” Draco wearily told Fred when he walked out of the room, acting unsurprised at Fred's presence.  The usually immaculate man’s clothes were in disarray and covered in various human excretions. “I kept him alive for now, for you, but his death can’t come quickly enough for me.”

Fred glanced into the room, expecting to see a mess, but the crafty snake had already cleaned up any evidence. Rodolphus was slumped over, but breathing.

“Come on, mate. I’ll walk you back to your dorm after you do a few spells to clean yourself up.” Fred had learned too many horrors that night about Draco’s “family life” during the war to dream of leaving him alone.

For nearly three months Draco, Hermione, and Fred met daily at the shack, making sure their captives were kept alive and ready.

Fred couldn’t ignore the shifts in his relationship with the two over that time. No longer did he worry about the looks Draco gave Hermione, as the blond had started to give him the same attention.  He’d never flirted with a bloke before; he quickly realized it wasn’t so different from a bird.

Bonding, beyond their shared secret of what Draco had done to Rodolphus, happened quickly over the two men’s appreciation for devious pranks. Draco taught Fred the charms he used to create the “Potter Stinks" badges, and Fred told the story of turning Ron’s teddy into a spider.

Hermione didn’t seem put off by their burgeoning, whatever it was. But, she also kept herself at a bit of a distance.

* * *

The group obtained their third captive near the end of March. Ron and George took a trip to Romania under the guise of visiting Charlie, and came back with Antonin Dolohov.

“Soon, brother,” George told Fred hopefully.

This time it was all the men who waited in vigil in the kitchen of the shack as the Russian’s screams rang out.

When the screams turned into choking sounds, they ran as a unit to the room set aside for Dolohov.

Draco made it through the door first and quickly blocked the others from entering when he saw what lay within. Except he couldn’t block Fred from going through the wall.

The sight that met Fred - the dark wizard secured to the chair, his own bollocks stuffed in his mouth - caused him to reassess Hermione.

Later that night, back at the castle, Draco held Hermione while she cried, Fred never feeling more useless as he watched.

“I’m not sure I can have children after what that bastard did to me in the Department of Mysteries,” she confessed.

As the final walls between the three disintegrated, all that remained was Fred’s inability to touch them as the other two began to explore each other over the ensuing days. They desperately tried to include him, but there were obvious limits.

* * *

In April, Harry and Ron turned up with Amycus Carrow. They took turns extracting revenge upon the wizard for the things he’d done to Luna, Ginny, and other female students during his tenure as Deputy Headmaster. When they finished, they requested empty phials from Hermione to create Pensieve memories for Neville.

With a week before their deadline, everything stood ready.

Fred had spent the night before it hidden away with Hermione and Draco, whispering promises. He looked forward to making good on them.

Fred had never read the full ritual, he’d just listened to Hermione’s explanation and Draco’s concurrence after he searched the Malfoy Manor library’s books.

He had no part. His five living cohorts were to perform every piece while he sat and prayed to Merlin.

Hermione, Draco, Harry, and Ron took their turns in killing the Death Eaters, each extracting their own blood and their victims’ to mix in separate prepared potions.

Those potions were then combined into a final concoction, which Hermione handed to George in a new phial.

“Here’s to you, Freddie.” George raised the glass to his lips with a salute.

He fell to floor after drinking it, the glass broken next to him as he began to convulse. No one else moved as Fred anxiously watched his twin.

Fred could only imagine the pain evidenced by George’s writhing frame matched his own from a year earlier.

 _Gods, this had better work,_ he thought.


End file.
